


Experimental Comforts

by Irrevocably_Sherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, FemJohn, FemSherlock, Femlock, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Sherlocked/pseuds/Irrevocably_Sherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Sherlock tucked her right hand up under her head and took the rare chance to look her fill at her blogger and friend. During the day, she couldn’t dare let her gaze linger too long, lest John learn the true nature of her feelings. Now, with John asleep, it was safe, she could look and watch without any fear. Sherlock let her eyes travel over John’s quiet form. If possible, she looked even more beautiful like this, relaxed and at peace, the usual frown of worry gone from her lovely face. Sherlock wanted to touch, to stroke her jaw, her shoulders, trail her fingers down that smooth flesh and feel all the mottles and softness. Fighting that urge caused her to dig her nails into her own palms, the pain a stabilizing force, keeping her from doing something colossally stupid. Like pressing her lips to that same skin, or attempting to learn what John’s lips felt like under her own. Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain control over her rapidly-beating heart. Sleep. She needed sleep. Sherlock closed her eyes, and willed herself into slumber. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimental Comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cakepopsforeveryone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakepopsforeveryone/gifts).



> For the lovely Cakes - This was supposed to be a birthday gift, but I hope you still enjoy it, albeit belatedly. And...Thank you, for so much. <3

The first thump made Sherlock pause, lowering her bow from the violin strings. The second was followed by a low whimper that had her rushing towards the stairs, her violin forgotten on the desk as she climbed up to John’s room. The sounds coming from behind the closed door were becoming louder and more frantic as she approached the room, a low keening followed by a high-pitched whimper. Sherlock raised her hand to the door and debated knocking, but an especially loud wail had her throwing the door open before she could think twice. 

Sherlock stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the darkness for the figure of John, and it wasn’t until another whimper echoed in the room that she was able to locate her, huddled in the middle of her bed, wrapped in the duvet. Her body was shivering so violently the entire bed was shaking. Sherlock stepped closer, her hand stretching out to touch John’s shoulder before thinking better of it. John was obviously in the throes of a nightmare, and touching someone with PTSD in that state was not the smartest move. She dropped her hand, slipping it into the pocket of her dressing gown, and stepped up to the edge of the bed. 

“John?” No response.

She called a bit louder, trying to wake John up without scaring her worse than she already was. “John. Wake up, John.” 

John finally startled awake and sat straight up in the bed, the duvet pooling around her waist. Her hair was in wild disarray, her chest heaving as she tried to calm herself from her nightmare. Her eyes searched frantically in the darkness, looking for the source of the noise that woke her. Sherlock decided to make it easier for her friend. 

“John, sorry I woke you.”

John’s eyes fixed on Sherlock’s form in the darkness. “Sherlock? Why are you in my room?” John ran her hands through her hair and over her face trying to calm her breathing. 

“I heard a noise, and wanted to ensure you were alright.”

“Jesus, Sherlock, you can’t just-” John stopped suddenly, dropping her head to her bent knees as a shudder passed through her, causing her to curl up further into herself.

“I’m sorry, John for bursting in- you’re awake now, I’ll leave. Goodnight.” Sherlock turned toward the door but stopped at the faint sound of John calling her name. 

“John?” She asked, turning back around. 

“Could you - I mean, It sometimes helps if...could you stay? Just for a bit?” John looked up at Sherlock in the darkness, her eyes pleading, obviously searching for some comfort. Sherlock couldn’t refuse. She couldn’t refuse John anything when she looked at her like that. Sherlock nodded and spun in a tight circle, looking for a place she could spend the night. She supposed the floor wouldn’t be too bad. Just as she was about to sit, John surprised her. 

“You can share the bed, Sherlock, there is plenty of room.” John was trying to sound nonchalant, but her voice wavered ever so slightly. John lifted up the duvet and moved over to the left side of the bed, leaving the right free for Sherlock. Sherlock removed her dressing gown, letting it slither off her frame onto the floor before climbing in and settling on her side.

John shifted her body so that she was facing Sherlock, her hand lying palm up in the empty space between their bodies. Tentatively, Sherlock reached out and threaded her fingers through John’s. At the first press of that contact, John exhaled low and soft, and for the first time since Sherlock entered the room, a small smile was evident on her beautiful mouth. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anytime, John. Sleep now.” 

John settled in and closed her eyes, and as Sherlock watched, the tension seemed to melt away, her lovely face softening. The rise and fall of her chest was deep and even, and Sherlock knew she was resting peacefully and with any luck would remain that way for the night. She attempted to remove her hand from John’s grip, but John tightened her hold, as if even in her sleep she was determined not to let Sherlock go. Sherlock felt a thrill run through her at the thought of John wanting her to stay, because honestly, there was no where else she would rather be. 

Sherlock tucked her right hand up under her head and took the rare chance to look her fill at her blogger and friend. During the day, she couldn’t dare let her gaze linger too long, lest John learn the true nature of her feelings. Now, with John asleep, it was safe, she could look and watch without any fear. Sherlock let her eyes travel over John’s quiet form. If possible, she looked even more beautiful like this, relaxed and at peace, the usual frown of worry gone from her lovely face. Sherlock wanted to touch, to stroke her jaw, her shoulders, trail her fingers down that smooth flesh and feel all the mottles and softness. Fighting that urge caused her to dig her nails into her own palms, the pain a stabilizing force, keeping her from doing something colossally stupid. Like pressing her lips to that same skin, or attempting to learn what John’s lips felt like under her own. Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain control over her rapidly-beating heart. Sleep. She needed sleep. Sherlock closed her eyes, and willed herself into slumber.

\-------------------------------------------------++++++----------------------------------------------------------- 

The morning sun was coming in at a wrong angle. Sherlock couldn’t place why for the longest moment, or why she was so delightfully warm, until she opened her eyes and tried to roll over. And suddenly felt the weight of John’s body against her own. Somewhere in the night, she had drifted closer, and the two of them were now nestled together in the middle of the bed, limbs tangled together. John’s arm was thrown over Sherlock’s hip, her face pressed into her neck. Sherlock could feel each warm breath as John exhaled, each one sending a shiver down her spine. 

Sherlock unwound her arms from behind John’s back, attempting to extricate herself before John woke. She was almost free when John stirred, back arching as she stretched herself awake. She opened her eyes, the deep blue bright in the morning light as she focused on Sherlock’s face. 

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Good morning, John,” Sherlock answered, warily watching John’s face for any sign of distress at their current positions. 

“You stayed, thank you,” John said, her eyes soft on Sherlock’s own. 

“It was my pleasure, John,” Sherlock replied, nervously licking her bottom lip. 

John’s eyes traced the movement, following each swipe of Sherlock’s tongue across her lips. Sherlock sucked in a breath at the heat she saw there, a simmering desire starting to build deep in her belly. John’s eyes flicked back up to hold her own, and she moved a bit closer, her hand coming up to thread through Sherlock’s dark curls. She stopped when her mouth was only millimetres from Sherlock’s, her breath ghosting warm across her face. 

“Yeah?” She whispered.

Sherlock could only nod, her breath coming too short to allow for speech. 

At the first press of John’s lips, Sherlock sighed, melting into the kiss and rolled her body closer. John swiped her tongue along the seam of Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock opened her mouth, allowing John to lick her way inside. As John’s tongue slid across her own, Sherlock moaned inside their kiss, and a shiver of arousal rippled through Sherlock’s body, the feeling so unexpected she broke away, her body shaking in John’s arms. 

John backed up, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t... you just looked so beautiful -”

“No!” Sherlock swallowed. “No,” she said more softly, “I just never … please don’t stop.” 

John smiled and leant back in, capturing Sherlock’s lips again. The kiss started chaste and sweet, but Sherlock soon wanted more. More of John, more of everything. She slid her hands under the hem of John’s T-shirt, exploring the soft skin with her fingertips. The kisses turned heated and hungry, their hands roving under clothing, over lush curves, grazing over hips, thighs, bellies. 

John trailed her mouth down Sherlock’s jaw, nipping lightly at the skin on her neck. Sherlock sucked in a shuddering breath as John’s hand grazed lightly over her breast, her knuckles brushing the nipple ever so slightly. John slowly moved her hand back upwards, teasing the raised nub. Sherlock moaned, tightening her hold on John as every cell in her body ignited. She had never known it would be like this, that she could be so affected from such a simple touch. 

“Sherlock,” John mumbled against her neck, “can I take this off? Please, can I touch you?”

Sherlock nodded. John chuckled against her skin, pressing light kisses against her neck. “I need to hear you say it, love.” 

“Yes, John, yes.” Sherlock practically yelled, not even sure what she was agreeing to just that she wanted it. 

“Sit up a bit, that’s it,” Between the two of them, they removed Sherlock’s t-shirt and pajama pants, leaving her in just her lacy black panties. “Lie back for me,” John whispered. John’s eyes darkened even further as she let her gaze travel over Sherlock’s body from her head to her feet. Sherlock felt self conscious, and almost moved to cover herself, but John’s next words stopped her. 

“God, Sherlock, you’re gorgeous. You don’t know how long I have wanted, this, you.” 

“John,” Sherlock breathed, lifting her arms to pull John down on top of her. The feeling of John’s fully clothed form on top of her naked body felt better than it had any right to, and she moaned into John’s mouth, eagerly exploring the wet depths with her tongue. John broke away, pressing kisses to Sherlock’s neck and shoulders, moving lower, her hands stroking Sherlock’s sides, inching closer to the underside of her firm breasts. 

A brush of John’s thumb across a peaked nipple had Sherlock’s back arching off the bed. John moved her thumb again, circling the nub lightly, before rolling it between thumb and forefinger, and Sherlock knew she had never before experienced anything so amazing. Molten fire raced through her veins, her mouth dropping open in breathless surprise as John lavished attention on each of her breasts in turn. Sherlock was breathing heavily, her hands gripping the bed, scrambling to hold on. John hummed, bending her head to tentatively touch the tip of her tongue to the sensitive flesh. Sherlock was already hovering on the edge, but that press, just that tease, pushed her even closer to the precipice. 

“John,” she cried, her hands instinctively coming up to tangle in John’s hair, silky blond strands sliding though her fingers. 

“So beautiful. So responsive, Sherlock. You’re amazing.” John crooned, before dipping her head to trace her tongue in the valley between Sherlock’s pert breasts. 

John repeated her attentions on the other nipple, adding a bit of teeth that had Sherlock nearly whimpering. John chuckled. “You could probably come just from this, couldn’t you? We should try that next time. Experiment.” 

At the word ‘experiment’, Sherlock picked her head up, meeting John’s eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, fogged over with desire. For her. And a tiny hope blossomed that this was not going to be just a one-time thing. 

“Next time?” She whispered, voice impossibly small. 

“Oh yes, Sherlock. I want to take you apart in so many ways.” John looked at Sherlock from under her lashes as she worked further down Sherlock’s body. “This is just the beginning.”

“Oh god,” Sherlock shuddered, her head falling back. John’s mouth, her tongue, was driving her insane, and if this was only the beginning…

John worked her way down the bed until she was between Sherlock’s legs. She carefully eased them apart, her hands massaging and caressing Sherlock’s inner thighs from knee to groin. Long strokes alternating with circular brushes of her thumbs as she got closer to the juncture of hip and thigh that kept Sherlock guessing as to what John was going to do next. Sherlock was trying to remember to breathe, every cell in her body alight with need, with hunger, for John. Her hips shifted restlessly on the bed, an ache building in deep inside, the need to be touched almost overwhelming. 

“John, please,” she breathed, not even sure what she was begging for. Something, anything, to stop the intense throbbing that was growing between her legs. 

John shifted her hands forward a bit more, her thumbs brushing lightly over Sherlock’s mound and slit, covered still by the silk of the panties. She rested her head on Sherlock’s hip, using just the pads of her fingers to tease around Sherlock’s most sensitive areas, until Sherlock was practically sobbing, begging, squirming with the need for John’s hands on her heated flesh. 

Taking pity on her, John hooked her fingers under the waistband of Sherlock’s panties and slid them down her legs and off, before settling back between her thighs. The first gentle press of John’s fingers to Sherlock’s bare skin caused Sherlock to cry out, back arching, hips instinctively seeking more. 

“John!”

“Christ, love,” John groaned. She slid one finger inside Sherlock’s slick folds, moaning at the wetness she found there. “Oh god, you’re so wet for me. Sherlock, I need - can I? Can I taste you, please?”

Sherlock could only nod, assaulted as she was by the sensations coursing through her. She was shuddering, John’s hands, her mouth working to break her apart piece by piece. Sherlock was trying to hold on, trying to fight against the rising tide, but every cell in her body was begging for release. 

The first touch of John’s tongue was a tiny swipe, just enough to tease. John did it again, this time, one long lick to Sherlock’s folds, tongue pressing gently against her clit. John moaned as Sherlock sobbed, and the vibration went right to her very core. 

“John, oh god, I can’t -” Sherlock was clenching the sheets so tightly her grip was white, every muscle in her body tensed. 

John lifted her head, reaching for Sherlock’s hand and threading their fingers together. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

She dipped her head down again, her mouth working on Sherlock’s pussy, licking and sucking at her clit, as her other hand grasped at Sherlock’s hip holding her in place. Sherlock was shaking, her orgasm washing over her, each press of John’s tongue pushing her ever closer. John, reading her body, sucked harder, her tongue rubbing faster on her clit, and Sherlock came apart, her orgasm crashing over her, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her veins. 

John coaxed her through it, easing her back down to earth with tender kisses to her inner thighs, her knees, until Sherlock’s body stopped shaking so violently, her tense grip starting to relax where she still grasped John’s hand. 

“Beautiful,” John whispered. 

Sherlock raised up on her elbows to look down at John sprawled between her thighs. She looked so gorgeous, flushed and sweaty, her hair a riotous mess from Sherlock’s fingers. “So are you, John. You’re transcendent.”

John’s smile could have rivaled the sun. She pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s inner thigh. “Thank you,” she whispered between kisses. “For staying.” 

Sherlock met John’s eyes, and she forgot to breathe, the force of that gaze taking all the air right from her lungs. She could see John meant more than just the fact that she stayed, much more. There would be time later to say all the things running through her brain, but right now “You’re welcome.” would suffice. “Come here.”

John smiled, crawling up Sherlock’s body and straddling her hips. She dipped her head, capturing Sherlock’s lips, tongue coming out to slide against Sherlock’s own. Sherlock could taste herself in John’s mouth, and it made her moan, the desire starting to build in her again. She slid her hands under John’s shirt, the feel of her skin intoxicating under her fingers. She’d never done this before, but suddenly she wanted to make John feel as incredible as she had. Sherlock pulled back, looking at John from under her lashes. 

“John, did you mean it? About a next time?”

John sucked in a breath, eyes darkening. “Oh god, yes.”

“Good,” Sherlock replied, running her hands under John’s shirt to help slip it over her head. “I want to conduct an experiment.”

 


End file.
